Of Roses and Other Cliches
by nowriterwrong
Summary: It's Valentines day and Piper is determined to find someone for Annabeth to spend the rest of her life with. The problem is, Annabeth doesn't believe in Destiny and Fate, and definitely not True Love. At least, that's what she's led Piper to believe. Fortunately, Percy's not really a fan of the romantic season either. Does that make them a match made in heaven?... Surely not?


"I'm thinking of throwing a Valentine's party this year," said Piper, dishing up a big, innocent grin.

"You're kidding, right?"

She shook her head and shrugged, "More partying is in everyone's interest."

Annabeth sighed and looked at her best friend with a blatant mix of accusation and incredulity. "You've hosted three parties this year. Why would you even think of having another?"

Annabeth felt sick. This was the most ridiculous and painful idea her well-intentioned, but woefully misguided friend had come up with yet. Valentine's day! Annabeth's own version of hell, and the two words most likely to strike fear into her heart.

Annabeth, unlike Piper, didn't have the inclination nor the enthusiasm to throw parties, and, also unlike Piper, she didn't have a boyfriend to accompany her to such an event.

Sure, she'd had boyfriends, but she'd never been all that invested in the relationship — she found that dating and romance cut too far into her study time. She had exams and a future to think about.

Of course, they were all nice enough guys, but nice enough just... wasn't enough. Although it wasn't particularly clear what was enough for Annabeth.

"What are you even looking for?" Piper often asked, exasperated.

"Just someone that understands that I have a career and friends of my own." Annabeth would say with a shrug. She didn't think that was too much to ask. It seemed practical and sensible so it should be possible.

"You've ruined your one chance at happiness." Her mother would yell each time Annabeth announced that she was, once again, single.

But Athena was wrong about that. Annabeth was happy. At least, she felt content, which was a lot like happiness. She had a full life. She was an architect, thanks to all her hard work and studying. She went to gigs and concerts with the frequency of a teenager. She had good friends, two dogs — not cats, she'd resisted succumbing to that cliche — and a stylish, self-designed home.

A home in which she was free to eat whatever she liked, whenever she liked and the TV was free for her use at her own accord. And junk food and binge viewings of _The Walking Dead_ were sufficiently compensatory for her. The only time she ever found being single difficult, and contentment elusive, was on Valentine's Day.

On February 14th, Annabeth's life felt like an enormous black hole. No matter how many yoga classes or dog walks she fitted in, coffee shops she read in or hours she spent designing, she could not fill that day. She found herself dwelling on the fact that every other woman in America was wearing a fabulous new dress, eating a delicious meal by candlelight, or picnicking in the park drinking vintage champagne while their husband or boyfriend serenaded them, throwing red rose petals in their path.

You know, the usual cringe-inducing romance that most single women pretended to hate but secretly dreamed of.

Annabeth told herself that it was actually only a materialistic, manufactured, almost grotesque commercial enterprise. But the image of a more beautiful and romantic version of Valentine's Day, largely endorsed by glossy, glorious magazines, always chewed its way into her consciousness and, secretly, she longed for it at much as anyone else.

Not that she'd ever admit such a thing. If there was one thing a single girl understood the importance of, it was saving face.

"Well, count me out," Annabeth declared.

"Have plans do you?" asked Piper, raising one eyebrow inquiringly.

Annabeth glared at her. "No one will come anyway. Don't couples want time by themselves on Valentine's Day? Isn't that the point?"

"I don't just know couples."

Actually, that wasn't true, Piper's friends were mostly couples but she thought they would really when they heard her plan; all of her friends were aware of Annabeth's singledom.

"Why would you want a bunch of drunks staggering around your house and throwing up on the bathroom floor?"

Piper laughed at her, obviously unwilling to be deterred. "It won't be like that. I'm going to have a romantic theme and ask everyone to wear pink."

"Even the men?"

She rolled her eyes, "Especially the men. And I'll serve rosé cava."

"And you'll find it spilt on your new cream sofa."

Piper ignored her. "I'll have a chocolate fountain."

"Chocolate is not pink, it's not theme appropriate," pointed out Annabeth churlishly.

"Come on, don't be such a spoil-sport, Annabeth. A party's a great idea." She paused and bumped me playfully with her shoulder, "You never know, you might even meet someone."

"No I won't," said Annabeth stubbornly. "You know I don't believe in that kind of stuff."

"What stuff?"

"You know… love at first sight. Destiny. Fate. Whatever you want to call it. I don't believe in it."

Piper cringed inwardly. Annabeth rarely believed in anything — even Thalia had once said that, even as a child, she didn't believe in Santa or the Easter Bunny. She was far too pragmatic — she always had been, apparently — and that worried Piper.

She was so sensible, rational and logical which was, in Piper's opinion, the real reason she'd never fallen in love. To do so, you had to give a little. In fact, you had to give a lot. You had to trust, hope and lose control.

Piper didn't think that being in a relationship was the only way to find happiness, but it was one way that she had found it. She and Jason already had 'it'. They were happy and loved and loving. Between the both of them, they formed that enigmatic and enviable thing — a happy couple. Of course they argued. They weren't perfect, and neither was their relationship. But most of the time they were one another's heart ease. Magic dust. Happiness. Call it what you will.

Piper wanted the same for Annabeth.

She had the bigger home in the better part of town. She had a promising career. She travelled often, and had a wardrobe to die for, and yet she had an air of something lost. Although she seemed content, her heart wasn't entirely in it. She was a beautiful vase, intricately designed, and with all the right hallmarks to make her something priceless. But she had cracks in her porcelain facade.

A part of her was missing, and Piper believed she knew how to fix it.

Piper was so determined for Annabeth to find what she had with Jason, that she had even suggested blind dating. It was a terrible idea, but she was desperate. She couldn't bear seeing Annabeth alone.

"And who could possibly fix me up?"

"Well then, why not internet dating?"

"I'm not really not in the market to meet psychos."

"Speed dating?"

"I have to enter into enough high-pressure pitches at work, thank you. I don't want that kind of thing intruding on my private life too."

So Piper had decided to go back to basics. The good old-fashioned method of meeting people at parties. She'd seen it enough in her dad's movies, why not give it a try?


End file.
